


Returning Home

by frek



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, Family, Honnleath, M/M, Post-Blight, cullrian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody ever told Cullen how strange it would be to return to his childhood home so many years after leaving it behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've ever written in this fandom. I'm still not entirely comfortable with the characters, but I desperately wanted to add to the beautiful worlds that you've all created for them. I hope that you enjoy this small offering. ❤❤❤

The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive. Cullen walked through the familiar paths, remembering a time when it was maintained, welcoming. He could see children running along the same paths in his mind’s eye, shouting and laughing as they chase each other on their way to the front door. Their mother - his mother - standing at the front door, cloth in hand as she dried a dish, watching her children, joy flooding her features. The house was quiet now. No children laughing, the front walk overtaken by weeds, the wooden walls grey and warped.

It’d been a long time since he’d been back to this house. Longer than he’d care to admit. Honnleath was no longer the village he’d grown up in, not since the blight ravaged everything, leaving only devastation in its wake. Cullen was glad that his last memories of the village were before the blight, before his parents had passed. They were happy and, somehow, that made the sadness that creeped in at the sight easier to handle.

Cullen found his way to the front porch, the memory of his mother standing at the door a far cry from the image that greeted him. The door was hanging by a single hinge now, askew and open, letting all manner of things into the building. The porch itself seemed to hold up, mostly. The roof was sagging in spots, but the floor felt sturdy enough under his feet. He easily crossed the distance to the door, memories of it taking much more than a few steps to get there flitting through his mind.

If Cullen thought it was quiet outside the house, it was nothing compared to the hush that surrounded him once inside. If it weren’t for the sound of his footfalls, he would’ve assumed he’d lost his hearing. There were no sounds of the birds outside meeting his ears inside, no scurrying of small feet in the rooms he’d grown up in. Just the lonely creaking of the floorboards under his weight.

Nobody ever told Cullen how strange it would be to return to his childhood home so many years after leaving it behind. How much remained the same yet felt wholly unfamiliar. He walked through the main rooms, eyes lingering over old, broken pieces of furniture, trying to place them with the pieces he remembered from childhood. There wasn’t much left behind of a personal nature. His siblings had managed to clear out most of that before fleeing the blight. That was, until Cullen stepped into his old bedroom.

The sight that met his eyes left him feeling winded and reeling, like a punch in the gut. The room looked so much like he had left it. The bed he had spent so many nights dreaming of his future still sat in the corner across from the door. His old wardrobe was right beside where he stood. On the walls were long faded drawings he'd done of Templars alongside a few his siblings had drawn for him. Cullen crossed to one such drawing and carefully pulled it from the wall. He let out a soft breath as he looked at the image his older sister, Mia, had drawn for him. It was a picture of he and his siblings, simply done, but it captured them perfectly. As his eyes took in the gap-toothed smiles of his younger siblings, he wondered what it must be like to be that happy again, to have nothing to worry about except what next adventure his day will bring.

Cullen pulled another picture from the wall, another of Mia's, of his parents sitting beside each other on the porch. He held it close as he continued his walk around his room. He was looking through the few books on his shelf when he heard footsteps coming up behind him. He turned his head to see Dorian entering the room, concern coloring his features as he crossed to where Cullen was standing. Cullen offered a small smile, though it was more sad than anything, before turning back to the books, finding an album among them. He tugged it from the shelf as Dorian stepped beside him, strong arms sliding around his waist, head resting on his shoulder. Cullen shifted and slipped his arm around Dorian’s shoulders and held him close as he opened the book with his free hand. It was stuffed with letters and drawings, with mementos from special occasions. The pages before him were filled with more memories than he was prepared to deal with. Cullen felt a hitch in his chest, tears stinging at his eyes. He blinked them away, but not before Dorian noticed.

"Come, Amatus," Dorian murmured, reaching out to take the book from Cullen's hands and closing it. "We can look at the album later. Is there anything else you'd like to bring back with you?"

Cullen looked around the room once more, leaning into Dorian more fully as he did, his body craving the comfort the contact created. "I…" He started, voice dying off as he thought. "Perhaps," he said after a moment, a memory coming to him. He slipped from Dorian's embrace and slid a hand into his, guiding him from his room to his parent's old room.

There wasn't much to see in there, a bed with moth-eaten covers, a wardrobe in the corner. It was the wardrobe that Cullen crossed to, pulling open the doors as they squeaked in protest. On the top shelf, beneath a pile of old, worn shirts, Cullen found the slim box he remembered from childhood. "I wasn't sure that it would still be here," Cullen said, voice soft as he released Dorian's hand to open the box. Inside was a drawstring bag that he opened and poured out into the box. Many old, worn coins fell out, coins that Cullen remembered gazing at as a child, his father explaining their origins as they passed the coins between each other. His father was the reason that Cullen had spent his life collecting coins. It meant more to him than he could say that the very coins that had started his collection were in his possession again.

"Maker," Dorian whispered, picking up one such coin, holding it to the pale light filtering through the dirty windows. "Some of these coins are from the ancient Imperium."

Cullen smiled at Dorian's clear appreciation. "He was very proud of his collection." He reached out and plucked the coin from Dorian's hand, examining it for a moment before speaking again. "He had told me how he had gotten this one from a traveler back before I was born, in exchange for a place to stay while he passed through." Cullen glanced around the room once more before tucking everything back into the box and closing it. He'd found what he'd come for, maybe more if he thought about it. 

"Come, my heart," Cullen said, reaching out for Dorian's hand once more. "It's time I leave these ghosts behind."


End file.
